


The politics of contraband

by PrimalScream



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, S4 canon?:insert mariah carey i can't read gif here, Silver needs someone to rub him down, i really just needed a reason for flint to be sweet to silver just because
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10065824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimalScream/pseuds/PrimalScream
Summary: Post S4.  John's sore, James helps





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write James caring for John

James finds John sequestered away in their cabin, pants off, sitting in a chair digging his fingers into his thigh trying to work out the knots in the muscle. He takes one look at John and locks the door before pulling up a chair and dragging John’s leg into his lap. John tries to pull it back but James holds his ankle.

“Let me.” His tone leaves no room for argument. He starts at John’s heel, thumbs digging in, pressing and massaging. John hadn’t realized just how numb his heel had become until James’s fingers work the blood flow back into it with a tingle. Working in a circular motion he moves up to the arch pressing in hard. John lets out a soft hum, lets his head roll sideways to rest on the back of the chair, eyes barely open as he watches the concentration on James’s face.

James runs a single finger up the insole and John jerks at the tickle of it, eyes popping open to look at James. He doesn’t miss the twitch of James’s lips and the barely there crinkle at the corner of his eyes. John moans when James’s fingers dig into the ball of his foot, it sends a flare of sensation up his leg and his cock stirs. James works the ball of his foot for long minutes squeezing and rubbing. Eventually John’s eyes fall closed and he lets out a relaxed sigh. 

When James finally lets go of his foot John thinks that will be the end of it but then he feels James’s fingers trail up the back of his right leg to stroke behind his knee. 

He applies the same deep pressure all along the length of John’s calf, working the muscle until John can feel the tension loosening, finally relaxing. John lets go of the soft appreciative noises climbing up from the back of his throat letting James know how much he’s enjoying it.

“It’s worse with the crutch?” James asks. 

“It’s better for the wound but worse for my right leg and hip. My right side is taking all the strain and the uneven gait is hell on the muscles and joints.”

James nods as he drapes John’s calf over his lap, he pulls John further down in the chair so that his ass is barely on the edge of it and then James starts in on his thigh. The second that James’s fingers dig into the tight muscle John moans. It feels incredible, at least until he presses harder at the first knot. John hisses, almost jerks away, hands gripping the edge of the chair tight as pain knifes through his thigh. He has to grit his teeth against the shout of discomfort. 

James only presses harder, keeps working, fingers rubbing and stretching until the first knot lets go. John’s body sinks back into the chair, breath heavy, heart racing, little dots of sweat on his forehead. James gives him a minute to recover before starting on the next one. It goes on like that for what seems like hours. James working him and John fighting against tightening up again, trying to keep himself relaxed so he doesn’t ruin James’s hard work. 

John can hear the pop of James’s knuckles, as he works knot after knot. He teeters between relief and agony, James giving him a few moments between relaxing one and starting another so he can catch his breath. Once the last knot releases all that’s left is the soothing methodical stroke of his hands. John thinks that were he to try and stand he’d end up on the floor, his leg nothing but jelly. 

James scoots closer and brings John’s left leg up. James inspects the wound, pressing gently looking for any tender spots. Finding none, he rubs circles over the rough flesh and John feels his eyes slip closed on a sigh. 

John’s left thigh isn’t as knotted and tense as his other since he’s not been using the peg. It takes less effort for James to relax the muscles and by the time he’s done James has gone from massaging deep into the tissue to gentle caresses of his fingers and palms along the entire length of John’s thighs. Arousal curls through John, slow and easy, making him sluggish and turning his skin warm.

John watches James's hands, mesmerized by the way they glide up and down his legs, his pale coloring a contrast to John’s darker complexion. James’s fingers squeeze, his nails raking gently down the insides, the slight sting going straight to John’s cock. 

James raises an eyebrow at the way John’s cock is pushing his shirt up.

John smiles at him salaciously, “What, you thought to come in here and put your hands all over me and expect I wouldn’t have a reaction? You should know better than that, Captain.”

James says nothing, just slides from the chair to the floor. He props John’s right leg on the chair before turning his head and latching onto his ankle. He licks over the bone and John jumps. It’s an odd sensation, unfamiliar but surprisingly pleasant. James bites delicately at the arch of his foot before dragging his tongue up the back of John’s calf to his knee. He sinks his teeth in, sucks at the crease. John moans, a shiver racing down his spine. 

James turns his attention to John’s other leg. He trails a line of soft kisses along the scar before giving the back of that knee the same treatment. He mouths up the inside of John’s left thigh, stops just short of his groin and moves to the other side, drags his teeth down the center, turns his head a quarter and bites into the meat of John’s inner thigh. John cries out, the pain warring with pleasure. 

James spends long minutes alternating between nips of his teeth and the wet lav of his tongue up and down the sensitive skin of John’s inner thighs. By the time he lifts his head and helps John work his shirt over his head both thighs are tender and pink, a random pattern of dark bruises littering his skin. 

He licks through the dark hair at the base of John’s cock. James slides further to the side, mouth sucking at John’s skin, tasting him everywhere but where John needs him most. He sucks a bruise into the cut of John’s hip, his teeth raking over the bone making John jump. John shifts trying to get his cock into James’s mouth. 

“Sit still, I’m trying to make this good.”

“There is no reality in which your mouth on my cock is ever going to be bad.”

James licks a single stripe up the shaft of John’s cock. John moans and pushes into the touch only to whine when James takes his mouth away again. James presses his tongue flat against the head of John’s cock, John rocks up into it and then James is finally lifting John’s cock, licking his lips and sliding the head over his bottom lip.

James swallows him down, slow descent, lips stretched wide, tongue cradling the underside, “Fuck, yes, just like that. God, James, your mouth.” John’s hands cradle James’s head, palms rubbing over the short hair James is finally letting grow again, fingers massaging the back of James’s neck. John curls over James when his cock hits the back of James’s throat. James swallows around him and John’s body quakes. It's so good that John can’t help but roll his hips forward and back.

James pulls all the way off, his hand following his mouth up. He strokes John three times in quick succession, the cold metal of James’s rings making John hiss. James goes down again, slow twist of his head, swivel of tongue, the spongy soft feel of the back of James’s throat before James’s swallows around him, hot breath ghosting over John’s hip as James breathes out heavily through his nose. John hears the gurgle in back of James’s throat and it sends a bolt of lust shooting through him. John’s hips thrust up and he slides deeper, feels James struggle for breath before he pulls off, strings of saliva keeping them connected. 

John rubs his thumb over James’s bottom lip. It’s wet and swollen and warm. He tugs James’s head back down, pushes back into his mouth, the sharp edges of James’s teeth scrape over him lightly, the sting only adding to how fucking good it feels to sink into James’s waiting mouth. 

He strokes his fingers over James’s ears, over the top of his head where it bobs in his lap, cock sunk deep. Wet heat surrounds him, soft suction as James work him in and out. Hollow of his cheeks, swirl at the head, tongue tracing the ridge. James hums as he goes back down and John feels it everywhere, a shudder working down his spine as he gasps. 

“Please, James, please.” James just hums again, leisurely pace continuing. John isn’t one to complain about being sucked off, he loves it as much as the next man, but he needs to come. He’s so fucking hard he hurts, his balls are tight and heavy, the head of his cock is overstimulated. He tries pressing his hips up but James just puts his hands on John’s waist and holds him still. He feels James chuckle at the frustrated growl he lets loose. 

John sinks into the chair, lets his head roll against the back of it as James’s head bobs up and down, sweet delicious suction driving him almost mad. He tries to let go, to let his mind wander so he can just enjoy it. He thinks about each feeling instead of the need to come. 

He concentrates on the slick feel of James’s tongue rubbing at the head on each upstroke, shivering when James’s tongue probes into the slit, moans at the hard suction to the sensitive bundle of nerves. James pulls off, licks down the underside, lips parted around him and John groans at the sensation of the air hitting his cock head. 

He doesn’t even realize when James starts to moves faster, when he encourages John’s hips to move. John’s body is moving independent of his mind, hitching little pushes of his hips, rocking in time to the motion of James’s head. He feels the buzz under his skin, tries not to think about it, tries to just let it happen, but fuck he’s right there, the edge of it pushing in, vision fading out, body starting to shiver. He lets out a ragged moan on the first hard pulse into James’s mouth, his fingers scrabble over James’s head, one hand tightening on the back of James's neck as his body locks down, his orgasm washing over him him like a rogue wave cresting the rail, shattering everything in its path. 

James sucks him through it until John has to push his head away. James leans up, tongue sliding into John’s mouth. John moans at the taste of himself. He never gets tired of kissing James. It’s a study in frustration some days. James kisses like he does everything else, full force, no quarter given. It’s as overwhelming as it is intoxicating and when John’s brains have leaked out his ears it’s hard for him to keep up. James kisses with his whole body, hands all over, tongue invading and John is unable to do anything but surrender. As quickly as it began its over.

James stands, hands going to his trousers, working them open fast. His cock springs free and John leans up, trying to get his lips on the head, but James has other ideas. He tilts John’s head, paints his lips with salty drops of precome and then starts stripping his cock quickly. James’s eyes trace John’s mouth, watching his tongue as John licks out over his bottom lip to taste them together. 

James makes a noise between a grunt and moan as he rocks forward, body starting to shiver, knees locking, his other hand goes to John’s shoulder, fingers squeezing as his head falls back on a gasping breath. 

As soon as James starts to come John tilts his head back, sticks out his tongue, eyes going to James’s face and there’s the look that John can never get enough of. Helpless abandon, mouth open, face slack, dark flush across his cheeks, ecstasy written all over him. John wishes he could paint, wishes he could capture the absolute beauty of James in this moment when he’s most vulnerable. 

John guides the head of James’s cock into his mouth with his tongue, swallows the bitter taste of him before moving down the shaft letting the last little bit of James’s come slide directly down his throat. He hums around James’s cock and John feels him twitch, a last low moan filtering down to his ears.

James pulls free and tucks himself into his trousers before leaning down and kissing John. It’s just a soft brush of lips before James slides one arm under John’s legs and another behind his back levering John out of the chair.

“God dammit, James how many fucking times do I have to fucking tell you not to fucking carry me.” John brings a fist down on James’s shoulder. James dumps him on the bed and stands over him.

“I’m not letting you back on that crutch until tomorrow. I won’t have you undoing all of my hard work.” John watches James undress, it’s not as if he can stay angry in the face of James’s logic.

James crawls into bed and lines himself up next to John, “When we get to St. Augustine we’ll see if we can find someone to fit you for another boot now that the swelling is gone.” 

John just nods, eyelids heavy as James rubs his thumb across John’s collarbone. James pulls him in and John goes, curling up against James’s chest. The last thing he's aware of are James’s fingers trailing down his spine.


End file.
